


"Minecraft is a great, creative game, okay, Jack?!"

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, Kinda, M/M, Minecraft, Random & Short, Rhys is Handsome Jack's Personal Assistant, Workaholic Handsome Jack (Borderlands), quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Helios is on lockdown, and Rhys and Vaughn pass their free time by playing Minecraft. Jack doesn't understand.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands), Rhys & Vaughn (Borderlands)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 96





	"Minecraft is a great, creative game, okay, Jack?!"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jack for beta-reading and supporting me while I wrote this. Thanks to alcohol for inspiration.
> 
> I can't believe this is so long! The idea was so simple. I'm scared what the other idea will be like. ^.^"

“Dude, don’t do it!” Rhys screams way too loudly, given that his Hyperion brand microphone captures the sound of his voice perfectly. “The fall will kill you! _Don’t_ jump! Do you want to die?! After _all_ that we’ve _done_!”

But it’s too late, and he watches the body of his best friend plunge into a deep ravine. Too many seconds later, he hears a tell-tale _crunch_ , and he winces. No-one would be able to survive this. There is only a wet smudge where his BFF should be. He knows that, but he still tiptoes to the edge and looks down.

_“HALF OF A FUCKING HEART! THIS WAS EPIC!!!”_

Rhys squeals just as Vaughn screams in his headphones. The mouse flies out of his hand, landing somewhere in the other room, because somehow, he manages to fling it right through the half open door.

“Dude! _DUDE!_ You should have seen this! I just flung my mouse right to Jack’s study through closed door!” His voice is loud and high from all the adrenaline and excitement. His heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest. His cider can has fallen from the couch armrest and rolled somewhere where he won’t ever find it, but that doesn’t matter, because it’s empty, anyway.

“Bro, you… Where?” Vaughn asks, suddenly serious.

“Oh.” It dawns on Rhys, what exactly happened. He might have a vacation because of the lack of work during Helios’ lockdown, but Jack does not, and he is working. In his study. “Oh…” He looks up just in time to see Jack open the door, his mouse in hand. He is frowning in confusion more than anger.

And that’s apparently enough for Rhys to burst out laughing. “Bro! I’m telling you, that was epic! Not as epic as your fall, though! You are a _badass_! That was sooooo…” He forgets about his fiancé completely, which is _hard_ , because the sight of Jack usually fills the whole room and some, but there is enough alcohol in Rhys’ blood to make him ignore even the suffocating presence still lingering in the doorway.

Jack clears his throat, snapping Rhys out of his exhilaration for another couple of seconds. He tosses him the mouse back, and Rhys only manages to catch it because his cyber arm and eye work together, unaffected by alcohol. There are too many empty cans of cider on the floor for him to be able to catch anything with his dominant, left arm.

“You are still playing that stupid game,” Jack notes, his tone now bordering annoyed. Rhys and Vaughn have been playing Minecraft like this since the beginning of the quarantine. Rhys has already gained five pounds from doing nothing at all, all day long, and Jack said he liked it and fucked his brains out last night, only for Rhys to get up early in the morning and get back to playing, eating his leftover pizza.

“‘s not stupid,” he mumbles, already back to playing, descending into the ravine more carefully.

 _“I didn’t say that!”_ Vaughn answers. _“I know that you don’t have Feather Falling like me.”_

“A bunch of blocks—”

“I’m not talking to you!” Rhys answers, once more way too loudly.

“Excuse me?!” Jack scowls, and that is finally enough for Rhys to take off his headphones.

“That wasn’t meant at you; that was at Vaughn. This, not the previous one; that _was_ at you.”

Rhys pouts as he gets confused by his own speech, while the CEO just rolls his eyes, walking back to his work and slamming the door behind himself. Rhys goes back to playing.

* * *

Many hours later, Rhys is almost sober; tired, falling asleep where he sits. Jack is still working, still hadn’t pulled him away from the game.

“I’m calling it a night, bro,” he declares, logging off. “Someone’s gotta put the big bad boss to bed, or he will be grumpy tomorrow. I don’t want to find out what he does instead of airlocking…”

“Mm-hm,” Vaughn hums, also obviously tired. “I heard that he disables the air circulation in the whole apartment block if he thinks someone is not working fast enough. And if they complete the task before running out of air, he turns it back on.”

“Oh god,” the cyborg sighs. “Anyway. Night!”

“Sleep tight!” Vaughn replies before ending their call. It was 20 hours, 14 minutes and 11 seconds long. Their new record.

Rhys knocks on the door to the study carefully, listening for any reaction. If Jack fell asleep on his desk, waking him up with a kiss would be much better than waking him by almost breaking through the door with his cybernetic arm. Though, the latter is generally much more fun.

There is rustling and a sound of vague interest on the other side, and so Rhys steps in. Jack is apparently still working.

“It’s almost 3 AM,” the PA informs him. “We should go to bed.”

“Yeah, just a minute, one more report,” Jack brushes him off, not even looking up from the screen.

There is no way Rhys would leave now, because if he did, he would fall asleep and find Jack still here in the morning. He walks over to him and sits on the edge of his desk, swinging his legs in the air out of boredom, and to keep the blood in his body flowing. If he falls asleep now, Jack will probably draw him a moustache.

Rhys isn’t new to his position by far, and so he recognises the moment when Jack opens yet another report instead of shutting off his computer without even looking sideways. Just the light changing on the wall behind the desk is enough of a sign.

“Jack, time for bed,” he reminds.

“I’ve got work, babe,” Jack says. He places one hand on Rhys’ thigh, giving him one light squeeze, probably hoping that it will sate his fiancé’s need for attention. But of course, that’s not what Rhys wants.

“Bed, Jack. It’s night. You need sleep.” He talks in short sentences, both thanks to drowsiness, and to, hopefully, make Jack listen to him.

“Just one more report,” the CEO hums.

With a sigh, Rhys gives in, waiting before Jack finishes another report. Then, he shuts his computer off with his ECHOeye.

“What the _fuck_ , Rhys?!” Jack jumps to his feet, letting his chair roll back and hit the wall. He is ignited, furious, every part of his body screaming danger. He stands tall, towering over his partner. He is also bigger and stronger, and all it would take is to wrap his hands around Rhys’ fragile, pale neck, and _snap_.

Rhys, of course, is anything but afraid. It’s his turn to be annoyed. “It’s 3 AM,” he repeats calmly, hints of his irritation filling his voice. “Time to go to bed.”

Only now realising where he is, with whom and why, Jack relaxes all at once. “Thanks, babe,” he says, giving Rhys a peck on the cheek and heading to their bedroom.

* * *

In the morning, Rhys is awake before Jack. His daily energy output is low, and so he can’t sleep for long. He sneaks out of the bed to ~~burn~~ _cook_ a breakfast. After throwing ten or so toasts-turned-charcoal to the trash, he manages to prepare a bacon and eggs dish for Jack.

As if on cue, his name echoes from the bedroom. Jack sometimes gets really irritated if Rhys sneaks out in the morning without waking him up. He, hopefully, makes up for it by bringing a tray with the food and a cup of coffee to the bedroom.

“Breakfast for the king,” he quips. Though, knowing Jack and his ego, he probably takes it seriously.

The CEO goes for the coffee first, and after gulping down at least half of the cup (Rhys, thankfully, made sure it’s not hot, because he knows Jack’s habits), he cleans the dish so fast the PA regrets not filming it, because Vaughn wouldn’t believe the video wasn’t sped up artificially.

“Thanks, babe,” Jack hums and goes about his morning routine. When he appears in the living room not even fifteen minutes later fully dressed, shaved and showered, hair gelled, Rhys sighs again.

“You should take a day off, Jack,” he says, putting away Minecraft and walking up to his fiancé. “I can do most of the work, or if there is too much, I could simply help you. I don’t need this vacation.”

Jack put his mask on for the day, and so Rhys can’t caress his face, but he can put his hands on his shoulders and pull him into a hug. “Come on, Jack. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Jack is bad at receiving and reciprocating gentleness, so he only stiffens in the hug, the only sign that he is the opposite of suffering is the way he rests his forehead on the younger man’s shoulder.

“I can’t give you any work,” he admits. “There is barely enough to keep _me_ busy.”

The confession was expected – Rhys knows exactly how much workload there should be for the CEO at this time, he is his goddamn _personal assistant_ – but he still frowns. “And why are you working so much, then?”

Sighing, Jack says it out loud, because he knows that Rhys won’t let it go. “Because I’m afraid I would go crazy from boredom locked up in here.”

There is a minute of silence, the two men staring at each other. Jack’s eyes widen when he notices a sinister glint in Rhys’. He is about to protest before the words even leave his partner’s mouth, but it’s too late to stop.

“You should try playing Minecraft with us—”

“ _NO FUCKING WAY!_ ”

* * *

 _“This game doesn’t make sense_ ,” Jack’s voice booms in his head. It’s like an explosion, too loud, because the motherfucker somehow hacked their team speak app and set himself to be really, _really_ loud.

“It’s a game, Jack,” Rhys growls. It has only been ten minutes, and he is already running out of patience. Usually, he can handle Jack’s antics for hours, but he’s been really outdoing himself in the past minutes. “It doesn’t have to make sense. Does _Tetris_ make sense to you?”

_“Arranging things so they fit in a small space? Ye—”_

“Minesweeper!” he interrupts him, so he doesn’t have to hear that smug voice finish the thought. “That doesn’t make sense, and you play it a lot; don’t you think I didn’t notice you were playing it instead of reviewing the Maliwan contracts that I had to wait _three days_ for you to finish! _Three days_ of Minesweeper!”

 _“I beat my own top time_ twice _,”_ Jack grumbles, focusing on who knows what. Rhys hasn’t seen him in a while.

“Where the hell are you, anyway? It’s gonna be night soon.” He turns around in a full circle twice, but he can’t see Jack’s nick – _HandsomeDaddy69_ – anywhere.

 _“Remember that big ass Elpis-style crack you two jumped over?”_ Jack mumbles.

Rhys closes his eyes and grits his teeth. “Yes… That was eight minutes ago, right at the spawn…” They have travelled over two thousand blocks since then.

_“Well, I fell there… And I ‘pparently didn’t take any damage, ‘cause there is an inch of water at the bottom.”_

Vaughn cracks first, chuckling, and then erupting into full laughter. Rhys follows it with an exaggerated groan. “And _whyyyyy_ didn’t you _tell_ us, Jack?”

The CEO doesn’t say anything, but Rhys hears the answer anyway. _I thought I would get out on my own…_ Or _I didn’t want you to laugh at me, because I’m an old, stupid, narcissistic EGOMANIAC._

“Let’s just kill ourselves, Vaughn,” he sighs. “Gonna be faster.”

 _“Wait, what? Rhys, don’t!”_ Jack panics on the other side of the line.

 _“This is gonna be a looong day,”_ Vaughn hums. _“I hope you were prepared for this.”_ And then, he beats Rhys to death with a sapling.

 _“What does it mean_ ‘ReesesPieces was slain by Br0estOfBr0s’ _?!”_

* * *

Several days later… Rhys is, unsurprisingly, highly frustrated. For a different reason than expected, though.

“Jack, come eat lunch, for fuck’s sake!” he yells in the direction of the study, but he gets no answer. Not even the usual _language!_

He knows what he will find when he enters the room, but that doesn’t make it less irritable. Jack is sprawling in the chair, laughing into his microphone, eyes fixed on the screen, as he tells Vaughn yet another embarrassing story about Rhys.

“Yes, he did! And then he denied it, saying that he didn’t drool! He _always_ drools!”

He can hear his best friend complaining that he heard more stories about Rhys’s sex life than he ever cared to know, but he is amused too. Rhys is not.

“Jack, you’ve been playing for _hours_. Have a break,” he demands, walking towards the desk.

“Can’t,” Jack brushes him off. “I’ve got work, babe.”

 _Work_ , as Jack calls it, is apparently running through a herd of cows and furiously right-clicking, and then watching them make babies Minecraft-style. Jack coos over the cute calves, and then slaughters all their parents.

“See that, Rhysie?” he laughs, watching as the calves follow his bundle of wheat. “They love me, even though I killed their mommas and papas! Dumb, like Hyperion employees! I should—”

“— _go_ _eat_ ,” Rhys interrupts him, finishing his sentence through gritted teeth. “It’s been _thirteen_ hours. Yes, I know that you sneaked out of the bed as soon as I fell asleep! Put the goddamn game away for five minutes!”

“Can’t, baby,” Jack shrugs, nodding at the screen to show Rhys the change of scenery. “I’m in the Nether, walking over a pool of lava on a one block wide bridge like a true badass.” _Dumbass_ , Vaughn calls through the team speak. “Badass,” Jack scowls, even though the accountant can’t see him. “Can’t quit, sorry. If the game reloaded me a few blocks to the side, I would die.”

“Walk to safety, then, and—”

“Can’t; I’m on a mission.”

“For what?” Rhys asks, even though he just _knows_ he won’t like the answer.

“I calculated I need 7.856 blocks of quartz for my statue of yours truly. I only have 8 so far. Put the lunch in the oven for me, thanks. Love ya!”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting). ^.^


End file.
